


Puppy Love

by iselsis



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Are Y'all....TIRED of me doing this yet?, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Fluff, Gen, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Gets A Hug, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd Steals the Batmobile Tires, Omega Bruce Wayne, Omega Jason Todd, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Bruce Wayne, Street Rat Jason Todd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28547523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iselsis/pseuds/iselsis
Summary: Batman is an alpha, but Bruce Wayne is an omega. And there's a puppy trying to steal his tires.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 94
Kudos: 1009
Collections: Gen Batfam ABO, Jason Todd Steals the Batmobile Tires





	Puppy Love

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I am having emotions  
> Other me: I thought we agreed not to do that anymore  
> Me: We did. I don't like them.  
> Other me: Well, how did you get them in the first place?  
> Me: You know how we made friends with that girl a few years ago? The one who helped us with the bad emotions last time?  
> Other me: I told you socializing was a bad idea  
> Me: Yeah, probably. Well, anyway, her uncle died a few weeks ago, and seeing as we're her best friend, and the only person she knows her age who's lost someone close to herself, she's confided in us. And because we love her, we listened, but now I have feelings that I don't like.  
> Other me: And we can't talk to our emotional support friend because now WE'RE the emotional support friend.  
> Me: Yup.  
> Other me: Darn.  
> Me: You know what this calls for?  
> Other me: therapy?  
> Me: *flashes back to thirty minute mandatory group therapy session that was nearly more traumatic than the death in the first place*  
> Me: ....no.  
> Other me: *flashes back to the disastrous three minutes it took me to get kicked out of the private session after*  
> Other me: ....probably a good idea  
> Me: Yeah, mind going to get me a Jason and the Batmobile tires idea from the back?  
> Other me: Right back.

Batman was an alpha. Everyone knew that. It would be obvious enough just from his build, but also from the fierce way he kept his city, patrolling his “territory” and defending it from any and all challengers. His alpha snarl struck the fear of justice into the innocent and guilty alike.

Brucie Wayne was an omega. A huge omega, one whom the tabloids often accused of taking steroids to grow to such alpha-proportions, but an omega all the same. His omega tendencies were clear from the gentle way he nurtured his city, funding schools and afterschool programs for the unfortunate, building homeless shelters and orphanages, stocking food pantries. He even took in a young pup after the boy’s parents were murdered right in front of him.

Bruce Wayne was an omega who had the good fortune to be tall, and the grueling years of training it took to build up his massive frame and imitate an impressive snarl. He fought at night to protect his city with the fury of a mother protecting its young, and he tried his best to nurture it with a mother’s gentle care in the day.

He was also staring at a young pup stealing the tires straight off his car.

Bruce tilted his head as he watched the boy spin the tire iron with impressive speed. It was only seconds before the boy had the bolt off. Bruce noted that he stuffed the bolt in the sagging pocket of his hoodie before he started on the next bolt. Two tires were already stacked behind the dumpster, and he seemed well on his way to getting the third off as well.

There didn’t appear to be anyone with the child. Bruce couldn’t see him very well in the dark, but the child’s hair was so snarled and matted that Bruce could see it from the roof two stories above. His hoodie was thick, obscuring his exact size, but from the way it hung nearly off one shoulder, the boy had to be thin, and even if he wasn’t, the state of his worn and filthy clothes made it obvious that he was not being taken care of, or at least not being taken care of _well_.

Deplorable.

The child was so young and helpless, but there he was, stealing in the night, alone on the streets of Gotham. Not just any streets, either, but Crime Alley. Either the boy was packless, or his pack was terrible, and Bruce would be paying a visit to Social Services before the night ended either way.

Bruce fired his grapple and swung down, landing only feet away from his car. He stood, trying his best not to loom, but that didn’t seem to do much.

The boy fell backwards out of his crouch and stared up at Bruce with wide eyes and shaking hands, and he flinched when Bruce took a half step forward to help him up. The scent of _scared-hurt-pack help me!_ and milky pup scent mixed with a sweeter, more mature honey scent.

The pup was an omega.

He was older than Bruce had thought—he’d expected maybe eight, but he’d presented and the facial structure was older, at least ten, possibly more than that—but still definitely a pup.

And packless. There was no scent on the boy other than his own and that of Gotham’s filth.

“Stay back!” the pup yelped, lashing out frantically with his iron even though Bruce wasn’t near close enough to be hit.

“It’s alright.” Bruce held his hands palm out in a gesture of peace. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The boy scrambled to his feet, backing up quickly, but not turning his back to run away. On the one hand, that meant that he was too scared of Bruce to turn his back, but on the other hand, he wasn’t taking off into the night. Bruce knew that he’d be able to catch him if he ran, but he didn’t want to traumatize the boy anymore than he was likely already traumatized.

“I didn’t do nothin’!” the boy shrieked, his eyes darting around the alley in a panicked search for a way out.

“I’m not mad at you,” Bruce assured the boy, gentling the rough growl he used as Batman but still keeping his voice in the low alpha range. “But I am going to need my tires back.”

“I don’t know nothin’ about no tires.” The boy made a weak attempt at a growl, but the effect was ruined but how utterly small and helpless the boy looked and smelled. “Let me go! I didn’t do anything!"

Bruce sighed. “I know you took my tires. I saw you take them. I won’t hurt you or arrest you, but I need you to give me those bolts so I can put the tires back.”

“No!” The boy’s eyes welled with tears. “Please, they’re mine. I need them.”

He probably could get more use out of them than Bruce could, but what he needed was a nest, and a bath, and a warm meal, and a pack to curl up with him and remind him that he was safe and protected, but the best Bruce could do was the orphanage. A lonely orphanage where he would be packed in with dozens of other omegas with their own troubles and no time for his, where all of his physical, but none of his emotional, needs would be met.

…Or was it?

There was a tight feeling in his chest, the same feeling he’d felt when he’d seen Dick screaming on that platform. There was a little pup who needed a home, and Bruce wanted to give him one.

Surely Alfred wouldn’t mind, and Dick wasn’t talking to Bruce at the moment, so he wasn’t going to give an opinion. He surely wouldn’t object to a scared street pup getting a home, though.

Bruce suppressed a purr of satisfaction. He was already planning out the nest he would build for his new baby. They would need new blankets if they were going to have _two_ nesting omegas in the house. Or maybe the puppy would want to sleep in his new dam’s nest, which wouldn’t bother Bruce in the slightest. It had been so long since he’d had a pup in his nest.

“I know you’re hungry,” Bruce said gently, holding out one hand toward the boy. “If you come with me, I’ll make sure you have a meal and a safe place to sleep tonight.”

The boy’s face pinched up and tears spilled over the edge of his eyes, leaving ribbons of clean down his grimy cheeks. “I’m not going to foster care. I’ll get trafficked or just raped.”

Bruce nodded his understanding and took a step closer. “I know. Foster care isn’t safe, not for omega pups. I’m not taking you to a foster home, though. I’m taking you to _my_ home.”

The boy’s tire iron was lowering, and for a split second, Bruce thought that it was going to lower entirely, and that the boy would take his hand just like that. It processed that the tire iron was lowering fast and level the second before it slammed into his ribs.

Bruce stumbled, clutching his side. The kid was stronger than he’d looked, and even with the body armor, that was going to hurt for days.

The boy wasted no time sticking around and took off in the opposite direction, but he didn’t get more than a step before Bruce reached out and grabbed his hood.

The boy screamed and spun with his tire iron primed and ready, but Bruce grabbed it and twisted it from the boy’s grip before he could do any more damage with it. The iron clattered to the cement, and Bruce grabbed the boy by both his arms. His little prisoner thrashed against his hold for nearly a minute before his screams turned to sobs and he went limp in defeat. Dread, heavy and thick, mixed with the terror in the boy’s scent.

“Please, please, I’m not a whore, I don’t wanna, please,” the boy begged through tears and harsh breaths. “I’ll give you back your tires, I’ll put them back, but please—”

“What are you talking about?” Bruce frowned, barely resisting the urge to brush away those little tears on his pup’s face.

“I know what alphas do to ‘mega pups who get in cars,” the boy sobbed. “Please, I don’t—”

The boy cut off with a yelp at Bruce’s instinctive enraged growl. His pleas tumbled out of his mouth into incoherency, and Bruce sighed, correcting with a gentle purr that was nearly omega.

“Hush, pup. I’m not going to touch you like that. I would never touch a child sexually,” Bruce promised.

“B-but—” The boy choked and shook his head. “You’re an alpha. Pl-please let m-me _go_.”

“Shh,” Bruce soothed, but worry creased his forehead behind his cowl. The boy obviously wasn’t going to trust him if he believed that he was an alpha.

Bruce let go of the boy with one hand and bit the tips of two fingers used the grip to tug the glove of his hand, unmasking the scent gland on his wrist as the boy attacked his other hand with a passion. It didn’t matter if the boy knew the truth, because he was going to know the truth anyway when Bruce put him in a nest.

The boy’s struggles petered to a stop when the scent of _protective-kind-safe-mother_ omega flooded the space between them. Little eyes slowly looked up in utter shock and met his through the cowl. So small. So vulnerable, out in the alley. He needed to get home.

Bruce tugged the boy closer, and, surprisingly, the boy came to him easily and let Bruce wrap his arms around him. He didn’t fight, but he also didn’t latch on, when Bruce lifted him up and stepped back to the driver’s seat.

The door unlocked automatically when he reached for it, letting Bruce open the door, slipping inside with his arms full of his new baby.

Bruce ran his hand over the boy’s hair, trailing his wrist to let the scent—mother’s scent, _pack scent_ —claim the boy as his. A tiny little hand rested against his chest and curled into a fist.

“You’re safe now, puppy,” Bruce said, dropping the alpha act altogether. His puppy needed a mother, not a charade.

Bruce pulled off the cowl so he could run his cheek over the boy’s head, coating him even more thoroughly with Bruce’s scent until the car was thick with maternal omega scent.

There was a tiny hitch of breath, which was all the warning Bruce got before the dam broke and the boy threw his arms around Bruce’s neck, clinging with desperate passion. Bruce hugged him even tighter and kissed the top of his dirty head.

“I’m going to take you home,” Bruce promised, “and give you a bath,” and then he’d have to scent the boy all over _again,_ but Bruce was looking forward to that, “and give you lots of food, and then I’m going to put you in a nest. You’re safe now…”

The boy hiccupped, but he managed to gasp out, “J-Jason,” before he dissolved back into helpless crying.

“ _Jason_.” Bruce rolled the name over his tongue and found that he liked it quite a bit.

 _Jason Wayne_.

That had quite a ring to it.

Jason was so light. He felt fragile in a way Dick had never felt, so much more breakable than any child should be. Bruce wanted to hold Jason even tighter, but he was worried that he’d break his rib cage if he did, so he settle for rubbing circles in the boy’s back and smearing even more scent onto him.

“B-but,” Jason choked at last.

“But?” Bruce raised his hand and pet it over Jason’s matted hair. That was going to be a pain to untangle, but either Bruce or Alfred would surely be able to manage.

“But you’re _Batman_ ,” Jason cried. “Batman b-beats people up! He doesn’t—”

Jason didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to. He was right, too. _Batman doesn’t adopt street children_.

Batman didn’t.

 _Batman_ was an alpha, but Bruce Wayne was a mother.

**Author's Note:**

> On the plus side, I got to talk to my crush about cannibalism and baby names because of all this, so that was nice.
> 
> Editing is for chumps and sleep is for heathens.


End file.
